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to the point of full and frightened retreat. Be patient with me and I should like to hear all that you have to tell about that which goes on, as my father says, behind the masks, beneath the tables, and within the dark corners of our rusticated, provincial lives. I should also wish to seek your assistance in learning the identity of the one who unburdens himself or herself of every detail of the immoral stumbles of our parish neighbours to my father. It is not you , is it, Mrs. Taptoe? Was that why Papa sent me to you?”
    Mrs. Taptoe restrained a giggle by placing palm to mouth. “Oh, dear me, no! I am aware of stumbles, to be sure, but they are generally of the venial variety—trifling offences if one is to deem them offences at all. For, child, I do not see sin in all things as some are wont to do. Moreover, I do not cast stones. And I do not believe that every misstep requires correction or absolution through Christian forgiveness. Forgiveness presumes a wrongful act. For an act to be wrongful, my dear, there must be a deliberate attempt to harm another. I speak not of the offence to sensibilities, for it should not be the responsibility of the potential offender to gauge the level of umbrage that could be taken by recipient or witness. If we were all about the business of tiptoeing through the garden of morality and virtue, I should think that we would accomplish very little gardening, for where one person sees a beautiful flower, another perceives an ugly weed. Or, shall I say, where one may see a tasty radish—well, my dear, you get my point, I am sure.”
    “But Mrs. Taptoe, should we not still cultivate some common ground for agreement lest we find ourselves in conflict and aspersion at every turn?”
    “But my dear! That is exactly where we are to-day! I have been shunned by daughter and son-in-law— village trades people no less—for possessing low principles, such as to constitute a threat to the moral education of their own impressionable children, when in some other circle, a quip about a man-radish or an observation that the human buttocks when attentively sculpted has no match in the world of beautiful and sensuous things, especially when situated upon a man and most especially upon a man who is given to work in the field and spend only minimal time upon a cushion—the muscular slope and turn of such a man’s buttocks a wondrous delight to behold—or to hold!—that statement right there would, as an example, constitute for some people hardly any offence at all! And now would you look at yourself in the glass, my dear? You are colouring again and even more so in this round.”
    “I am quite all right, Mrs. Taptoe. It is the chair. It squeezes me as would a vise.”
    “Then move to the sofa, for goodness sake! It is large enough to hold a person of average size quite comfortably and I have been told that five adult dwarves may dangle their legs from it without any crowding whatsoever.”
    As Anna rescued herself from the incommodious chair and transferred upon this helpful suggestion to the more accommodating sofa, she repeated her previous enquiry with regard to the identity of the individual who confided so willingly in her father.
    Mrs. Taptoe shook her head. “I may guess amongst a few but let us not guess. In fact, why should we even trouble ourselves with the exercise? Whoever this person is, he or she is apparently most unhappy, and as a vessel containing such a wretched brew is not one from which I chuse to drink. Speaking of brews…”
    At this moment Umbrous Elizabeth entered with the tea things.
    “What has kept you, dear girl! The water was no doubt come to full boil several minutes ago.”
    “Beg your pardon, ma’am. Mr. Tripp, you see, was standing at the window and making funny eyes. After I have served, may I go to visit him in the stable?”
    “You may. Shew me first the funny eyes that he was making.”
    Umbrous Elizabeth obeyed her employer and made her eyes large and round